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Erin Cochran: Ferris Wheel’s End

Voices, conversations, a cacophony of noise
Old, young, somewhere between
Children scream wildly
Laughing uncontrollably
Electric cables wind like boa constrictors through feet and strollers and the mud of last night’s rain
Glossy brown caramel shines in the window of a trailer
Dough crisp and greasy burns quickly
Sugar clings to fingernails waiting to be licked off, littering shirt fronts as a testament to a moment of gluttony
Cigarette smoke assaults, too much at once
Jars of jam, photos of the dog, a tin man made from bits and pieces scavenged from the garage next door
Blue ribbons announce victory
Tractors roar, deafening spectators and passersby
A fog of dirt coats hair, clothes, teeth
Fingers point, cameras flash
A rooster crows in confinement
Quilts and pies lined up, neat rows wait to be admired, judged
Spinning slowly upward for a view never seen down Main Street
Empty cars wait endlessly
Their occupants engaged in eternal celebration
One last warm night
To spin endlessly
Eat with greasy sticky fingers
Engage every sense without reason
The speaker spews the band’s name
Cheers rise
Blankets spread on cool green grass
People from the grocery store, the school, the Co-op by the railroad tracks
Lay back listening, humming along, tapping feet
Drifting mindlessly into the sea of tiny explosions
Red, blue, green, gold, purple tendrils paint an invisible ceiling
With a memory,
An end
To summer.